Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morne / Upon her wings presents the god unshorne. / See how Aurora throwes her faire / Fresh-quilted colours through the aire; / Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see / The dew bespangling herbe and tree.

Sometimes the dedicated slugabed is rudely awakened by the yelling of builders, the bustle of housemates, the entreaties of toddlers or even dawn's rosy figures coming in at the window. These impediments to sleep must be blocked out if you are to enjoy your morning doze.